Silence, Solitude, and Toast...

I have a new, but ancient, practice. Revolutionary to me, but common sense to many. Silence.

Of late, this practice occurs while the toast is toasting. I believe the toasting process is in the three minute range.

Silence is hard for me because Martha is my twin. You know, the Martha in the Bible. She and I aren't good at not doing (double negative there I know)but the silence has made my hearing more acute.

I hear the traffic down the street, the birds chirping, the dogs' toenails click clacking on the hard floor and most importantly the voice of God. Not all the time, mind you, but sometimes when my brain settles and I stop seeing to-do lists with imaginary checkboxes next to each item, unchecked of course.

Today I saw myself and Jesus on a tree-lined path. Just a view of our backs walking down the path. My hand in his. Then I realized that I was almost the same size as him, and He said, "You know I'm bigger than that."

Immediately I shrunk, and he grew to be very large, and my hand was so tiny in his that his completely enveloped mine. I realized that his view encompassed far more than I could dream of seeing. He looked down at me and said, "Let me hold your hand."

So I did. I held his hand, and then recalled all the times that I would run on ahead of him because his pace was too sedate. I would scamper ahead to see what was around the next bend or distract myself with the stuff along the path, and his voice would pull me back, "Just let me hold your hand."

Last week we received the diagnosis. Stage 4 colon cancer - terminal. So the clock is ticking for my dad- not like it wasn't ticking before, we just couldn't hear it.

My emotions ricochet about like I have no control, because I don't, and that is probably best, but while the toast was toasting this morning, I heard Him say, "Just let me hold your hand," which is probably best.